


Here Comes A Thought

by ChanglixFelicis



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Some Swearing, no survival show, they're still stray kids but not as we know them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-03 22:38:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17292728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChanglixFelicis/pseuds/ChanglixFelicis
Summary: Even though he’s been very, very good about not acting on it, Minho can’t deny that thinking about kissing Jisung as often as he does probably Means Something on its own.Five times Minho thinks about kissing Jisung, and one time when it actually happens.





	Here Comes A Thought

_ i. _

 

Minho had never expected his dancing to take him anywhere. It was just a hobby - something he enjoyed that he was also pretty good at, maybe even kinda great at. Something he could bond with others over at dance classes. Something he could use to work out the stress of a difficult week of school, or a failed test, or the general teen angst that seemed to build up in his very muscles.

 

He never expected to end up here, out of his small-town dance school and instead being led by the hand around the company headquarters of one of Korea’s biggest entertainment labels. Everything his guide - an older boy with a kind smile and a gentle hold - said to him as they walked around was drowned out by the glamour of it all, the sheer sense of wonder and anticipation and  _ disbelief _ that Minho, just regular Lee Minho, was really here.

 

(Okay, so technically it had been his face that got him the opportunity first. He’d been approached by a casting director on the street and invited to audition. But it was his dancing that got him  _ through _ the audition, so at least he wasn’t just a pretty face. A good dancer  _ with _ a pretty face.)

 

“Everyone’s really nice here, I promise,” the other boy told him as he pointed out his favourite practice room. It looked like all the other practice rooms, but was so much  _ bigger _ than the ones back home, Minho couldn’t help but find it fascinating. “It’s competitive, sure, but supportive, too. Everyone’s chasing the same dream, so…”

 

Minho just laughed nervously. “Nobody’s gotta worry about me. All I can really do is dance a little bit. I’m no threat.” Passing his audition had been exciting, but seeing all the talented, well-trained kids scattered around the company building singing, dancing, rapping and everything in between really brought Minho down to Earth. He had a long way to go.

 

The boy let go of Minho’s hand to pat him on the back. “You just got here, don’t worry. Some of us have been training for a  _ really _ long time.” He sighed heavily, but kept on smiling, anyway. “Besides, I’m sure you’re better than you think. And if you  _ really _ aren’t, everyone will be glad to help you!”

 

“I hope so.” He really, really hoped so. The cheery groups of girls calling out  _ congratulations _ and  _ welcome _ from the dance rooms, perhaps. The small cluster of boys, gathered on the stairs around someone’s phone and faces largely obscured by hoodies, maybe not so much.

 

Minho had felt so uncomfortable walking past them, he’d almost asked his guide if they could take a different staircase. None of the hoodie-boys had said anything to him, but one in particular had watched him like a hawk - he could feel eyes on him, even though he couldn’t see them properly, and the boy’s mouth had made a little  _ o _ before quickly pressing together in a firm, distinctly unfriendly line.

 

Still...they were labelmates now. If Minho ever saw them again, he’d do his best to be friendly and make a good impression. If he even recognised them.

  
  


As it turned out, he didn’t have to recognise them. As the first newcomer in a while, it seemed that everybody knew who Minho was within a couple of hours, and at the informal little gathering he’d been dragged to on the fourth floor of the building he was approached by countless other trainees all leading with  _ hey, you’re the new guy, right? _

 

“Those girls are going to debut soon,” Chan, as Minho had later found out his guide from earlier’s name had been, nudged him gently. “They’re very nice, but you may not get to see much of them. They’re super busy these days.”

 

“Okay.” Minho knew they were nice. One of them had given him some candy before even asking what his name was, and it was a little disappointing that they wouldn’t be around too much. “What about them?” He pointed to another small group of trainees on the floor, tucked away in a corner. A couple of them wore hoodies, but Minho couldn’t be sure if they were the same ones from earlier or not.

 

“Oh, them? Nothing official in the pipeline yet. Rappers. You can spot them a mile away, since they all dress the same way. Sweet kids, though. I should introduce y-”

 

Minho stopped listening at that point, as one of the supposed rappers on the floor happened to turn around and  _ oh _ .

 

Well, more like  _ o,  _ the familiar shape of the boy’s mouth had Minho absolutely sure that he’d seen him before. The upper part of his face was new - large eyes, round cheeks, he didn’t look much like Minho’s idea of a rapper. Especially when, unlike earlier, his face broke into a radiant smile.

 

He was at Minho’s side in an instant, smile not wavering for even a second. “Hey, new guy,” he began, seeming to glance around Minho for a moment like he was waiting for some kind of signal from Chan. Whatever happened behind Minho, it must have been what the rapper in front of him was hoping for, as his whole body seemed to relax. “What do you do?”

 

“Huh?” Minho wasn’t sure what question he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. He’d almost just said  _ Minho _ on autopilot.

 

“You know, do you sing? Or rap? What  _ are _ you?” He was bouncing a little on his feet, and Minho couldn’t help but think that it was extremely cute.

 

“I dance,” he began, before suddenly coming over a little sheepish. “Ah, like everyone else in this room, I guess. And I sing a little.”

 

“Cool, cool. I’m a rapper!” Just as Chan had said. The rapper stuck out a hand, then, smile dazzling. “And a bunch of other stuff, but mostly a rapper. If it’s not one of your strong suits, I might have a few tips to pass on.” He winked, and Minho couldn’t help but feel envious of his confidence. “Oh, I’m Jisung, by the way.”

 

“Minho.” Jisung smiled even wider when Minho shook his hand, and it stirred strange, embarrassing feelings in Minho that he hadn’t felt since the time he’d been paired with that one extremely handsome and muscular dance class senior for a lift. Hopefully they didn’t show on his face, and he belatedly tacked on a  _ thanks _ so it didn’t seem quite so much like he was staring.

 

Jisung was distracted, then, by the arrival of a tiny little thing through the practice room doors. “He’s younger than you,” Chan whispered when the other boy was out of earshot, peppering clearly unwanted kisses all over the new arrival’s face while his victim wailed  _ hyung  _ like it was an everyday occurrence. “He’s really good, though, so if you do feel like taking him up on that offer, you won’t regret it.”

 

“Got it.” Minho wasn’t really listening, all of a sudden entirely overcome with the realisation he’d been focusing on Jisung’s mouth like...way too much since he first saw him. Whether he was surprised, or frowning, or smiling, or tormenting the younger trainee with kisses. Minho made a note to look at Jisung’s eyes more when they next spoke, take in how big and shiny they were instead of watching his mouth or thinking about what it would be like to-

 

Okay. Okay, it had been a long day. He was tired and nervous and apparently enamoured by anyone who showed him kindness as a fish out of water. Okay.

 

_ Stop kissing me! Kiss someone else! _

 

Minho was only saved from his own thoughts by another younger trainee, one of the vocalists, sidling over to introduce himself. It didn’t last long, though.

 

“A dancer, huh?” Seungmin had hummed, taking a swig of water from the bottle he very sensibly carried with him. “Nice. Jisung seemed convinced that you’d be a model.”

 

_ (It had been a very long day. Okay.) _

  
  
  


_ ii. _

 

“Stop the music. Stop the music...Minho, you mostly take singing parts, yes?”

 

“Um...yes?” Minho swallowed his original answer.  _ I’m just a dancer who sings a little _ . That wasn’t what he was being asked, not really.

 

A lot had changed since he first joined the company. Chan was still by his side, leading him through each day with encouraging words and kind smiles. Jisung was still with him, too, with his sparkling eyes and boundless confidence. Except now he was surrounded by six other boys, as well - rappers, vocalists, dancers, all hand-picked by Chan to make a Dream Team of sorts, a team he was absolutely sure could go the distance.

 

_ I really believe this team can debut _ , he had told the head of the whole damn company himself. And somehow, Minho had been included. No matter how many days went by with the nine of them training together, working on material made just for them, Minho couldn’t quite believe that he’d been plucked out of the trainee masses because Chan, for some reason, had faith in him.

 

He’d had so many lessons, so much training, and really, his voice wasn’t all bad. But Minho still didn’t consider himself a  _ singer _ . Not really.

 

Except when it was the company head asking, having dropped by to observe their practice one day. In that case, he’d be anything the others needed him to be.

 

“I want to hear you rap.”

 

...except perhaps a rapper.

 

He never had taken up Jisung’s offer for help with rapping, he didn’t think he’d ever need it. He could do it a  _ little _ bit, but Chan’s little team had a lot of great rappers already, so he’d be fine where he was, right? Apparently not.

 

Conversations went on around him. Telling him to rap such and such part of such and such song, and asking for one of the others to lead him in. Minho wasn’t sure if he heard it. All he could hear was his heart pounding in his chest, roaring in his ears.

 

Minho was a dancer. A dancer who could sing okay, and maybe rap a little.

 

_ He wasn’t a rapper _ .

 

Jisung was a rapper. Jisung was a very good rapper. Jisung was right next to him, lips pursed in a worried sort of expression, before parting, then pressing together again. Like he wanted to say something to comfort Minho, but didn’t know what.

 

Everything in Minho’s world was buzzing, like crackling static before suddenly being silenced by a warm hand wrapping around his own. He’d been shaking without realising it, but Jisung’s touch, surprisingly gentle, held him together at the seams.  _ I got you _ , he could see Jisung mouth in his direction, even if he still couldn’t really register what was going on around him.  _ I got you _ .

 

Jisung had him.

 

Maybe he could be a rapper, just for a minute. 

 

With Jisung lightly squeezing Minho’s hand to the beat of the music, he could at least try.

  
  


“You did a great job, hyung.”

“You were great, Minho.”

“Rap line had better watch themselves.”

 

Minho knew he didn’t do a  _ great _ job, but he was content, for now. The Big Boss hadn’t said anything, but that was fine. It meant he had no pressing criticisms and for that, Minho was over the moon. He also kind of never wanted to rap again.

 

“You were  _ so _ good,” Jisung took him aside later, whispering even though they were face to face and completely alone. He was holding Minho’s hands - both of them, this time - and something about that made Minho feel like he could do anything in the world. “You really were. You should rap more.” And just like that, Minho kind of did want to rap again, after all. Just maybe not in front of anyone important.

 

“I might need to take some more lessons…” Minho began, but before he could continue he found himself silenced by a delighted glimmer in Jisung’s eyes.

 

“Leave that to me! I’ll help you. I’ll make you a better rapper than all the others. Better than Changbin, even. Better than  _ me _ .”

 

“Jisung-”

 

“I’ll make you the best damn rapper in this company. No, in  _ Korea _ . If you uh, want me to, I mean.” The fire in Jisung’s eyes was suddenly extinguished, and he loosened his grip on Minho’s hands with a sheepish little laugh. “You don’t have to, though.”

 

Jisung was biting his bottom lip, and Minho was suddenly extremely aware that he was looking at the younger boy’s mouth  _ again _ to have noticed that. They were still holding hands, however lightly, and the gentle shake in their linked fingers (was it him? Was it Jisung? Minho couldn’t tell) had Minho’s heart skipping a beat. Maybe it was just how close they were, or how alone they were, or how relieved they were after being put on the spot like that, but Minho was having those thoughts again. The dangerous ones.

 

Jisung bit his lip harder, and Minho - unable to tear his eyes away - wondered just for a moment if he’d ever had the same thoughts.

 

_ Yo, where’s Minho? _

 

_ Probably in the bathroom. Peeing or screaming. Either or. It was pretty tense back there. _

 

_ And Jisungie? _

 

_ Maybe he’s in the bathroom too? _

 

_ Jeonginnie, not everyone needs to go to the bathroom in pairs. _

 

_ Should I go look for them? _

 

“We should probably go back,” Minho hissed in lieu of acknowledging either Jisung’s offer or the heavy tension that weighed down on their shoulders. Jisung nodded, drawing his hands away from Minho’s and for just a moment, Minho almost regretted it. A tiny, empty sort of ache coursed through him when Jisung let go, but he wasn’t ready to acknowledge that, either. Not when he could see little marks in Jisung’s bottom lip from where the younger had been biting it.

 

_ (No! No looking! Stop looking!) _

 

In the end, it had been Chan who Minho approached for extra rap coaching. If it bothered Jisung, he didn’t let it show too much, but honestly, Minho wasn’t sure he could have handled taking lessons from him anyway.

 

With the amount of time he had to spend watching Chan’s mouth during their little classes, Minho was fairly certain that had Jisung been his teacher, he wouldn’t have learned a damn thing.

  
  
  


_ iii. _

 

It was funny, how so much could change.

 

Lee Minho: dancer, had become Lee Minho: dancer and kind-of singer. Progressed to Lee Minho: dancer  _ and _ singer _ and _ rapper.

 

All the way to where he was now. Lee Minho: dancer, singer, rapper, and soon-to-be-debuting member of  _ Stray Kids _ .

 

He had always been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, but when the day came that they were all called together, to be told that they would all be debuting as nine, Minho couldn’t remember a time when he’d cried so hard.

 

It hadn’t all been sunshine that day - they were told, in no uncertain terms, that there had been some doubts about  _ a few members _ along the way, with knowing looks directed at the corner of the room where Minho was standing, twiddling his thumbs. Still, he tried not to let it get to him, as along with a nervously fidgeting Felix just behind him, he took comfort in the fact that in the end all nine of them were considered ready. A finished product. A boy group.

 

_ The real hard work starts here, _ they were told,  _ preparation for your debut begins tomorrow.  _

 

What was left unsaid, though all nine boys heard it anyway, was  _ enjoy tonight. _

  
  


Chan refused to divulge which senior he’d gotten them from, but the bottles that mysteriously appeared in the dorm that night were  _ not _ their usual sodas, that was for sure. It had started as  _ ‘grown ups only’ _ and steadily gone downhill from there.  _ ‘Minho can have some too actually’ _ to  _ ‘you know what Changbin would probably be fine just be sensible’ _ to  _ ‘babies get one sip and one sip only that’s final!!’ _ before the eldest members finally kept to their word.

 

Minho took a swig absentmindedly before passing the shared bottle back to Changbin - it wasn’t strong stuff, and there wasn’t much of it between nine ( _ four!!  _ Woojin insisted) boys, but it was the spirit of things, the brief window between the ‘training’ period and ‘predebut’ where it would feel wrong not to let loose a little bit, be a little rebellious.

 

That, and despite it being barely more than flavoured water, it was a great excuse to get a little bit emotional all over again without (much) shame. Chan had called his parents in floods of tears, Jeongin had tossed his homework somewhere behind the TV with absolutely zero intention of getting anything done that night, Hyunjin had set up a cuddle-pile on the floor, and Jisung…

 

Well, Jisung had been loving on the others - the other  _ members _ , Minho thought, blinking away a few tears at the thought that they were a  _ group _ \- all day, pulling them into tight hugs and babbling excitedly and kissing their cheeks. For now, though, he reached out to Changbin with raised eyebrows, breaking into a smile when the bottle was handed to him readily. Jisung had already had his Single Allocated Baby Sip, Minho was sure, but if anybody was going to tell on him to the older members, it sure wasn’t going to be Minho or Changbin.

 

He wetted his lips a little, suddenly conscious that Changbin hadn’t drunk from the bottle before giving it to Jisung. Maybe Minho was too old to be thinking about indirect kisses. Maybe he was just a little buzzed.

 

(No he wasn’t.)

 

Perhaps he’d been so distracted watching Jisung drink, he’d completely missed the younger boy pushing the bottle back into Changbin’s hands and making his way over to Minho with a dazzling smile.

 

“We made it, hyung, can you believe it?” He beamed, wrapping himself around Minho tightly. Jisung gave good hugs, pressing close and slipping his arms around Minho just so, like he fitted against him perfectly. Minho hugged him back, of course - it would be criminal not to. “All nine of us debuting together. For real!”

 

If Minho tried to say anything emotional he’d probably just throw up, and that was  _ nothing _ to do with the piddly alcohol content of whatever it was being passed around the room. He was just bad at articulating his feelings, especially with Jisung so close to him. He took the alternative. “You doubted me that much, Jisungie? Mean.”

 

Jisung just whined and smacked Minho weakly, not letting go. “That’s not what I meant! Now I sound like an asshole.”

 

He was pouting. Minho hated himself for noticing. Tearing his gaze away from Jisung to take a quick glance around the room, he found that distracted with their own business, nobody else was looking.

 

Nobody except Jisung himself, looking right at Minho like he was the only other person in the world, and maybe Minho was finding it a little difficult to breathe, all of a sudden.

 

“I was kidding,” his voice was lower than intended, and he didn’t miss the way Jisung pressed a little closer, like he was leaning in to hear him properly. “Kinda. Though I did have my own doubts, you know? They singled me out more than once.”

 

“Only about stupid shit that didn’t matter.” How Jisung could sound so heartfelt even when he was cursing, Minho didn’t know, but it was one of those things he couldn’t help but like about him. “You’re good. We’re all good. And we’re gonna debut together and it’s gonna be amazing, yeah?”

 

Jisung’s little  _ yeah _ sent a tiny shiver up Minho’s spine, like he was breathless, and maybe he was. Maybe Minho was too. His chest had been a little tight all day, since they got the news, and there had been this strange detachment from his surroundings, his whole body, like it no longer belonged to him. At least until now, with Jisung holding him tightly and his hands resting on Jisung’s waist, his pulse racing, mouth dry, their faces barely inches apart. He’d suddenly never been more aware of himself, of his surroundings, of  _ Jisung _ , in his entire life.

 

It would be so easy to dip down to kiss him.

 

It would be  _ so _ easy.

 

Maybe that was why Minho couldn’t do it.

 

“Yeah.” He whispered back, slipping a hand up and into Jisung’s hair, to gently nudge the younger boy into resting in the crook of his neck. It was no less intimate - maybe even more so - but it took the edge off, for now. He couldn’t see Jisung’s lips anymore, and even if that particular emotional torture had instead been replaced with Jisung’s breath lightly ghosting against Minho’s neck, just for a moment he could close his eyes and breathe.

 

Jisung didn’t kiss Minho’s cheek the way he kissed the other members, but Minho didn’t ask why. It seemed too dangerous, like Jisung would see through him immediately.

 

Instead Jisung just kept holding on, strangely subdued. At least, until Seungmin called from across the room  _ is Minho hyung crying again? _

 

“I think I drank too much,” was Minho’s excuse, and also a complete lie. Despite his internal battles, everything was pretty much coming up roses for Minho right now. He’d be debuting with his friends, the light at the end of the tunnel that he’d worked so hard for. How could he not cry?

 

The source of Minho’s internal problems just giggled, drying his tears for him with his sleeve. Perhaps Minho was a teeny, tiny little bit doomed.

  
  
  


_ iv. _

 

“Candy!”

“Uh, our diets?”

“ _ Fuck _ the diets, man!”

 

Minho wasn’t sure who the box was actually addressed to today - probably not Jeongin, since he had mail last week, but then again, Minho didn’t know Jeongin’s parents and for all he knew they  _ could _ have been the type to send their son a whole lot of comfort snacks multiple weeks running.

 

With a dorm full of young dudes, care packages from proud, loving, or just fretful parents were common. It wasn’t an unusual sight to see any member of the group curled up on the couch, some kind of letter in one hand and snacks in the other, blinking away tears (that had been Minho fairly recently, actually) but it was always so  _ exciting _ when a box would mysteriously appear in the living room. Save for Felix’s mail, which tended to be impossible to source locally and was largely reserved for bouts of homesickness, the boys usually shared their sugary spoils among the group.

 

Minho silently agreed with the sentiment being chorused around the room -  _ fuck _ the diet.

 

It always felt a little like a sleepover party when someone had a care package. Everyone would gather on the floor around the box after its intended recipient had removed anything personal (or just called dibs on anything particularly good) and dig through its contents, passing them around and splitting into smaller groups just to talk, maybe feed each other or crack some bad jokes or make bizarre combinations of snacks that they would  _ insist _ were good. Today was no different.

 

“God, I love carbs.” Jisung sighed wistfully, opening a large bag of chips with a  _ pop,  _ and Minho had to agree with him. He was exhausted after a long day of dance rehearsals, with only the promise of a snack party in the evening keeping him going for so long.

 

_ “Ah~” _ He opened his mouth, a grinning Jisung obligingly popping a few chips in for him. Pizza flavour. Nice.

 

It was comfortable, in the low light of the living room (they really did need to get bulbs changed) with a quiet playlist running in the background through someone’s tinny phone speakers. Felix had flopped against Chan’s side with a packet of cookies, mumbling something about them tasting like something he remembered from Australia; Changbin ignored Hyunjin’s prodding as he diligently took his vitamins before finally relenting and accepting a handful of cheese puffs, and Jeongin quietly set to work demolishing an entire bag of gummy sweets before anybody else noticed he had them.

 

It was warm, nice even. Especially with Jisung right beside him, crunching away at the chips and complaining about That One Bitchy Dance Instructor to nobody in particular - maybe Minho, maybe Woojin, maybe just getting it off his chest. Minho only half-listened, but he couldn’t really help it when the whole room had this soft  _ buzz _ in the air itself, drowning out any particular words or sounds.

 

At least, until a delighted  _ pepero! _ cut through Minho’s thoughts.

 

“Ughhhhh,” Seungmin groaned as Hyunjin, who had found the pepero box, popped one of the biscuit sticks into his mouth with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “You’re so  _ weird _ .”

 

Hyunjin just kept watching Seungmin intently, until the other boy finally gave in and shuffled closer to him to bite on the other end of the pepero.  _ Oh _ . So that was what Hyunjin was getting at. Minho - along with everyone else - watched as the two members gradually nibbled away at the pepero before, with a grumble, Seungmin snapped the stick and pulled away. “Weirdo.”

 

“Coward.”

 

A few giggles from around the room, and that probably would have been it (except for a sudden awareness, on Minho’s part, of how Jisung would accidentally brush his fingertips against his lips as he continued to work through the bag of pizza-flavoured chips) had Felix not leaned in to Chan’s side to whisper a low  _ what the fuck _ .

  
  


Apparently, Felix had never heard of that little game before.

 

Which meant, for some reason, everybody had to play.

 

Minho wasn’t a stranger to Questionable Pepero Antics - as an anxious, exploratory young teen he had been an even bigger fan of them than most other boys, something he looked back on with both embarrassment and a sense of  _ ‘yeah, that was obvious’  _ \- but it had been a good while since he last spectated, let alone played for himself, and he hated how glaringly obvious he felt just watching the others messing around.

 

Still, at least with the others  _ also _ distracted with watching the proceedings, maybe he wouldn’t be slapping a target on himself just yet.

 

It was kind of funny, watching the other members play. Chan would begin with false bravado, but always break away first; Woojin took no prisoners; Jeongin would whine and complain, but also be surprisingly stubborn, while Changbin and Felix would panic so quickly that the remaining pepero could probably be used again for another game, there was so much of it.

 

Fingertips tapping against Minho’s thigh, and he glanced to one side only to be met with the sight of Jisung with a pepero stick in his mouth, brows raised in questioning.

 

Minho’s breath hitched.

 

He couldn’t just  _ not _ do it - that would be too suspect, and really, it wasn’t like he didn’t want to. It was more like he wanted to  _ way too much _ , and he was terrified that somehow, it would show.

 

He took a moment, took a breath, and with what he hoped was a cool, relaxed sort of smile, he motioned for Jisung to come closer to him. The younger boy smiled back, lips pressed lightly around the pepero, and he obliged, placing his hands on Minho’s thighs to brace himself.

 

Steeling his resolve, Minho took the other end of the pepero into his mouth.

 

Not that Minho had imagined it or anything, but Jisung seemed like the confident type, which was why he found it so surprising that he was taking it so slow. Jisung’s palms pressed into Minho’s thighs just a bit too hard, his arms shaking a little, and Minho found himself bringing his hands up to Jisung’s shoulders to steady him without even really thinking about it. 

 

It was way too intimate, especially in front of an audience.

 

It felt like it was taking too long.   
  


Jisung was so close. So, so close. Minho could act confident, let their lips touch for a moment before laughing it off, he’d have the perfect excuse. Nobody went into this kind of thing without a  _ little _ thought in the back of the minds of  _ what if _ , after all. It wasn’t like it hadn’t happened already tonight - Woojin truly took no prisoners, and a brush of the lips didn’t seem to bother the eldest member at all.

 

Except Minho wasn’t Woojin. And Jisung wasn’t Woojin, either. Minho was Minho and Jisung was  _ Jisung _ and Minho had realised by now that Jisung, being Jisung, had been the problem for longer that he was happy to admit.

 

Jisung was even closer. Minho’s heart jumped.

 

_ I can’t do this _ .

 

He bit down hard on the pepero, pulling away from Jisung and turning his gaze to the floor to avoid the confusion - something almost resembling hurt - in the younger boy’s eyes, now blown wide in surprise. Perhaps Minho’s heart broke, just a little.

 

The tension in the air didn’t last long, as Hyunjin gave a low whistle from across the room, twirling another pepero stick between his fingers like a cigarette. “Wow, didn’t know you were such a weenie, hyung.”

 

“Didn’t know you were so  _ rude _ , Hyunjin. Learn some manners.” But Minho was secretly grateful for the interruption, swallowing hard as Jisung gradually moved away from him. He felt a familiar little ache at the loss of contact and knew, in his heart, he was completely screwed.

 

The atmosphere in the room settled quickly. Seungmin’s favourite song popped up on the playlist; Felix tapped Changbin on the shoulder with another pepero in hand and a hopeful sort of expression on his face, and Woojin whispered something to Chan about  _ these kids I swear _ . But for Minho, things couldn’t quite settle. Everything was wrong, somehow.

 

Maybe it was how Jisung was no longer looking at him.

 

Jisung didn’t feed Minho any more chips, but he did keep the bag in easy reach for Minho to dip his hand in and take some for himself. Sometimes, just sometimes, they’d both reach for the chips at the same time, and Minho would allow himself more contact between their hands than strictly necessary as if to say  _ hey, it’s okay _ . More than anything, he just wanted things with Jisung to be okay.

 

Jisung never pulled away, but the tension between them just didn’t seem to break.

 

Minho wondered if he was only making things worse.

  
  
  


_ v. _

 

The boys didn’t have a whole lot of free time. The time they did have, they usually wanted to spend catching up on sleep.

 

Still, they made an effort to watch a movie together at least once a week. It was ideal - something they could do in the dorm, with the members picking what movie to watch, and anyone particularly tired could just fall asleep in front of the TV. Perfect.

 

Hyunjin had chosen the movie this time around - a surprisingly steamy romantic drama in English that had originally been met with some protest among the group before Woojin announced that he kind of wanted to watch it, actually.  _ If you hate it that much you can take a nap _ , he’d reasoned as a triumphant Hyunjin fiddled with setting up the movie.

 

Minho had fully expected to take up that whole nap offer, as he was far too sleepy to concentrate on the Korean subtitles. He may have spoken enough English to communicate with fans, but the leads in the movie spoke too fast and used too many weird words, so Minho just vaguely followed the action on screen, letting himself drift off a little to the sound of Chan quietly snoring away as he had been since before the opening credits had finished.

 

Except Jisung had settled beside him, and under several blankets, ended up resting on Minho’s chest to watch the movie. Minho wasn’t going to get any sleep with Jisung snuggling up to him like this, and had instead slipped his arms around his waist to hold him close. It wasn’t unusual for any of the boys to cuddle a little, or a lot, during movie night, but Jisung was...Jisung. And Minho wondered if Jisung would even be able to hear the movie over the sound of his heart threatening to pound right through his ribcage.

 

Jisung spoke English. However sleepy, Minho could tell that Jisung was listening to, rather than reading, the movie - sometimes the younger boy would mouth the dialogue shortly after it happened, shifting a little bit against Minho’s chest as if nodding in understanding to himself.

 

Eventually, the male and female lead kissed. It was obviously going to happen. Minho knew it was coming before it happened from the musical cues, but he wasn’t quite ready for it, somehow. Something about watching the characters on screen lock lips while Jisung was so close to him made him uneasy.

 

(Something, fuck. Minho knew exactly what it was. What it had always been. And maybe he was a little bit terrified.)

 

What made him even more uneasy was the way Jisung nestled into his shirt, and he could only pray that he wouldn’t notice Minho’s breath catch.

 

Chan was asleep. Jeongin was asleep. He was pretty sure Felix had fallen asleep at some point, too. That still left several other members in the room with them, but there was that weird feeling again that often happened when Jisung found his way into Minho’s arms, like they were the only two in the whole world. Maybe only Minho felt it, maybe Jisung felt it too.

 

Minho wasn’t sure what would be worse.

 

He’d let his eyes slip closed a while back, embarrassed enough at hearing the more intimate scenes without having to watch them as well. Still, he’d chance a peek at Jisung every so often. Just because he could.

 

_ I love you _ , Jisung mouthed at the TV, piercing Minho’s heart in a way the female lead could never hope to.

 

_ I want you so much _ , it was like the script had been written specifically to torture him.

 

“Hyung,” Minho realised, belatedly, that the word had actually left Jisung’s mouth that time. A soft, barely audible breath as the movie twiddled away without them. “Are you awake? Hyung?”

 

Minho kept his eyes closed and hoped with everything he had that Jisung wouldn’t notice he was awake. That his breathing would stay steady, his pulse even. If he opened his eyes even a little, he’d risk his gaze falling to Jisung’s lips as he whispered in the darkness.  _ To understand him better _ , he’d probably reason to himself before getting distracted, thinking about kissing Jisung just like he always did.

 

“Minho hyung?” He could feel Jisung’s lips lightly brushing against his jawline as he spoke, but still didn’t stir. What was he supposed to do? Kiss him right there, on the lips, in front of everybody? Because Minho didn’t trust himself not to do that. Not when he wanted it so fucking much, and it was right there in front of him, so painfully easy to do but at what cost?

 

And so, he didn’t stir.

 

A quiet laugh, under Jisung’s breath, and he brought a hand up to stroke along Minho’s jawline. “Fell asleep, huh?”

 

Jisung was so  _ precious _ . Minho wished, desperately, that he could be close to Jisung without being plagued with the desire to kiss him all the time, because all it ever did was make him awkward and Jisung confused and he just wanted to see Jisung  _ happy _ . Jisung didn’t have any problem being close with  _ him _ , that was clear enough from the way the younger would seek him out for cuddles like this. Joke with him, touch him easily.

 

Minho wished it was so easy for him.

 

Jisung never spared even an inch when he cuddled up with Minho, like their bodies were made to be pressed together perfectly, just so. It was warm, too warm. Minho could feel him moving in a little closer, perhaps to doze off on Minho’s chest, or play with his hair.

 

Which was why he couldn’t quite repress a twitch of surprise at the barely-there touch of lips at the corner of his mouth.

 

“Um.” Jisung mumbled, something Minho could feel on his skin before he heard it. Was that his own heart thundering in his ears, or Jisung’s, beating against his like an echo? Minho didn’t know. He didn’t know if he was even convincingly asleep anymore, but if Jisung could tell he was awake, he didn’t show it.

 

“Watch the movie, Jisung.” Changbin grumbled from somewhere in the darkness, seemingly half-through a pillow, and Jisung tensed. He rested his head in the crook of Minho’s neck with a little sigh, which felt all too rough against Minho’s skin.

 

“Mmkay.”

 

Minho continued to feign sleep until it came for him in earnest.

 

He was not okay.

  
  
  


_ ∞ _

 

“Minho hyung?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Can I, uh, join you?”

 

“Sure?”

 

It wasn’t weird for the members to climb into each other’s beds. It wasn’t weird for Jisung to climb into other people’s beds. It shouldn’t have been weird for him to climb into  _ Minho’s _ bed, even if Minho was alone in his room. It was just Minho who was the problem. It was Minho who was weird.

 

Still, Minho was a loving and caring hyung first, and a big gay disaster second, so he was more than glad to shift over and make room under the blankets for Jisung to get in. “You okay?” He murmured as the younger boy made himself comfortable, snuggling easily into Minho’s side and resting his head on his chest.

 

“Myeah.” Jisung took Minho’s hand, then, placing it on his own waist in an unusually bold move - even for him. “Just feeling a little lonely. Better now.”

 

Jisung had come prepared, his phone at a surprisingly high battery percentage considering it was the middle of the night. Sharing few words, the two of them ended up clicking through whatever youtube videos took their fancy - music videos, weird compilations, kittens doing cute things.  _ That’s you _ , Minho would whisper, pointing to a particularly tiny, helpless kitten.

 

_ Yeah, well, that’s you _ . Jisung would point at something strange, like a lizard, and just giggle when Minho stuck his tongue out at him in response.

 

There was no denying it. Minho...really liked Jisung. Understatement of the century, honestly.

 

He loved performing with him on stage, harmonising with his vocals, cheering on his raps, synchronising with his dance moves. He loved cuddling up with him in the dorms, sharing snacks, taking silly candid pictures with his phone, just sitting around watching pointless videos online like they were now. He loved powerful, charismatic Jisung. He loved sweet, affectionate Jisung.

 

He loved...Jisung.

 

“Hey, hyung?” Jisung’s voice pulled Minho out of his reverie, probably to show Minho another video on his phone. Except the phone had been dropped onto the blanket, Jisung not even looking at it but instead, directly at Minho with an unusual expression. Like a smirk but slightly wavering, occasionally poking his tongue out to wet his lips. “Can I, uh, do something?”

 

“What?” For a moment, just a moment, Minho’s mind was completely, blissfully blank. Jisung moved his hands up to cup Minho’s face, then, and suddenly Minho’s mind was blank for an entirely different reason. “Oh. Um.”

 

“Can I-” Jisung’s smile was naughty, and suddenly so, so close. Minho could imagine the playful glint in the other boy’s eyes in the darkness, watching Minho melting under such a simple touch, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away from Jisung’s lips and was painfully aware that Jisung knew it. God damn it. He was so weak. “Can I kiss you?”

 

Minho wasn’t sure what he answered. He wasn’t even sure  _ if _ he’d answered, or if the  _ yes _ and  _ god please _ had only been in his head. Either way it had probably been obvious -  _ he’d _ been so, so painfully obvious - and Jisung leaned in to close the gap between them.

 

Minho wasn’t thinking. He wasn’t really capable of thinking. If he had been thinking, though, his first thought would have been how warm it was. Warm, cuddled under the blankets. Warm, both his and Jisung’s cheeks ablaze. Warm, Jisung’s touch against his skin, fingertips lightly trailing down his neck. It was soft, though not exactly chaste - Jisung was a little too insistent for that, pressing their lips together without sparing even a millimetre to kiss Minho as deeply as possible.

 

Determined as Jisung may have been, he was still inexperienced, maybe even nervous. As nervous as Minho was. He shook just a little all over until Minho held him steady, running his hands lightly over Jisung’s waist before letting them rest on his hips.

 

Kissing Jisung shouldn’t have been so easy, but it was. Just like Minho had always imagined it would be.

 

Maybe the difficult part would be stopping now that they’d started.

 

“Jisung-” he whispered, but Jisung cut him off with another kiss, lips parted ever so slightly and making Minho’s head spin.

 

“Hyung,” Jisung finally replied, barely an exhale. “I can never tell if you wanna kiss me. I think you do, but then you pull away. I don’t like it. Makes me feel like I’m reading you all wrong.” He pressed his forehead to Minho’s, then, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, and Minho wasn’t sure if he wanted to stop him with another kiss, or nip at his lip for him. He was too far gone. “Do you wanna kiss me, hyung? I wanna kiss you. Like a lot.”

 

“Yeah.” He still couldn’t think straight. “I do. I really do.”

 

Jisung relaxed, like he had shrunk several sizes in Minho’s arms, and a funny sort of warmth bloomed in Minho’s chest. “Why’ve you gotta be so weird about it, then?”

 

“Because I’m bad at dealing with my emotions, generally.”

 

Jisung’s laugh, Minho decided in that moment, was absolutely amazing, even if it was at his expense. Maybe because - it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it.

 

“I guess we can work on that. At least you’re better at kissing than you are at feelings.”

 

“Am I really?”

 

“Oh, yeah. From what I can tell so far, anyway. Gotta make sure.”

 

A mumbled  _ kiss me again, hyung _ was quickly muffled by Minho’s unspoken reply.  _ Absolutely. Whenever you want. As much as you’ll let me _ . Perhaps he wasn’t great at expressing his feelings with words, but that was something he could worry about later, after kissing. They could talk about feelings with linked fingers and red lips and breathless laughter in the dark. After kissing. Kissing now.

 

Although he may have been Lee Minho: big gay disaster and bad at feelings, he was also Lee Minho: dancer, singer, rapper and member of _ Stray Kids _ .

 

He was Lee Minho: in love.

**Author's Note:**

> first ever stray kids fic~ please go easy on me stays ♥
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/changlixfelicis) \+ [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/changlixfelicis)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] Here Comes A Thought](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19137073) by [the24thkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the24thkey/pseuds/the24thkey)




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